


Snowy Days In June

by orphan_account, TheRoseWood



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Hair-pulling, Light Bondage, Magic, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Sex, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29222244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoseWood/pseuds/TheRoseWood
Summary: In the early days of his exile to Brakebills South, Professor Mayakovsky gets a reprieve from his solitude from an unexpected guest.
Kudos: 2





	1. An Unexpected Trip

**Author's Note:**

> Did you watch 'The Magicians' and think "I bet Mayakovsky likes to tie girls up and beat them for his own sexual gratification." Well, I did. That's what this is, a good bit of world-building in chapter 1, but otherwise not a whole lot of story, mostly just BDSM porn staring "The drunk perv in an igloo" 
> 
> Enjoy.

June sauntered casually through the festival grounds. It was little more than a large round patch carved out of the heavy forest, with a series of booths and tents leading to a fairly bleak mainstage. All around her hippies, bohemians, and the would-be woke chattered and cavorted. Her pretty face, flowing reddish-brown hair, and shapely figure easily caught the eye of many of her fellow festival attendees. The hot August sun beat down on her bare shoulders, and her gauzy sundress clung to her slender body with sweat as she strolled. 

She had saved for months to attend the 3rd Annual Peace and Unity Festival, and thus far was finding it greatly disappointing. She regretted not bringing any company to keep her occupied. Lazily she browsed a merchant’s booth, only to find the items overpriced and distasteful. On the mainstage ‘Electric Eels' a Phish tribute band was beginning their set. She hastily walked in the opposite direction in search of better entertainment.

Near the edge of the surrounding forest, she spied two vaguely androgynous men. They looked like your typical festival wooks displaying long shaggy hair, patchwork carrier bags, brightly dyed linen pants, and an assortment of handmade necklaces. They locked their gaze on her and beckon her over.

“Are you as bored as we are?” the first man asked with a grin.

“It’s...not all that I had hoped.” June shrugged in agreement. 

“Care to make your day a bit more interesting?” the second man inquired. 

He smiled eerily wide like a Cheshire cat and he held up a baggie full of dried brown mushrooms. June smiled back cautiously, it had been a few years since she’d done shrooms, and she’d been hoping to have the opportunity here.

“How much?” she asked.

“Festival pricing is $25 a gram...but you seem nice, so I’ll do 2 for $45.” 

June wasn’t thrilled with the price, but after considering her options, or lack thereof, she decided to take the deal. 

“Happy travels,” he said with a smile, taking her money in exchange.

June smiled, nodded, and turned to leave. Suddenly, the first man grabbed her by the wrist with a very serious look on his face.

“Those things are powerful, my sweet.” he looked intensely into her eyes, then beamed brightly “Think Happy Thoughts!”

June pulled her arm away from the strange man and quickly made her way to the other side of the grounds. Once she was out of sight from the eccentric drug dealers, she looked over her purchase. About a dozen gray stemmed mushrooms with brown withered caps, they didn’t appear to be dusted or altered. She considered briefly the dangers of taking drugs from strange men, but ultimately realized she’d only ever bought drugs from strange men. In fact, being a strange man and a drug dealer seemed to be ubiquitous. She popped a couple of shrooms in her mouth, swallowed them with a gag, and slipped the remainder into her bag.

She looked thoughtfully over the vague map of the festival grounds and saw a pond indicated just beyond the edge of the forest. She decided this would be the ideal place to take a little trip, far from the prying eyes and invasive noises of the crowd. Quickly checking her surroundings to ensure the strange men she’d bought from were not following she gingerly trotted off to the pond. 

It seemed like hours had passed as she sat staring at the water waiting for the drugs to kick in. Occasionally she thought she felt something, only to have it disappear a second later. The day was hot and the air near the pond was heavy with humidity. Sweat rolled down her back and forehead. She kicked off her sandals and dug her toes into the cool mud, looking for relief from the baking heat. She was nearly desperate enough to dive right into the tiny water hole, but the thick layer of algae that covered it’s surface kept her at bay. Little flies and mosquitoes buzzed around her and bit at her flesh. She swatted at them in annoyance, but it did little to sway their assault. She picked up a nearby rock and hurled it into the pond in an impatient fit.

“Ugh! Fuck it all!” she screamed in frustration. “What a waste of money! Fuck these shrooms! Fuck this festival! I just wish is I somewhere without all this fucking heat and these GOD DAMN mosquitos!”

In the blink of an eye, June found herself no longer seated beside the sunny pond. All around her were huge piles of white snow, a cold wind whipped mercilessly at her exposed skin. Icy clouds billowed all around her in angry gusts. The sweat on her skin froze into tiny drops and the arctic air burned her lungs as she inhaled a deep, shocked breath. Her fingers and toes quickly began to lose feeling, and she shivered violently. She rose to her feet in a panic, searching wildly for a sign of humanity, but finding only a white frigid wasteland.

~

Professor Mayakovsky shuffled down a long echoey hallway of Brakebills South. He idly ran his hand over the increasingly thick layer of gray stubble on his jaw. He considered shaving, but for what purpose? It had been weeks since any students or visitors had arrived, and he knew no one would be arriving for at least another three days. Like so many days alone at his wintery outpost, Mayakovsky found himself with two options: Study and practice his magical craft, or drink. He chose the latter. Taking a long swig from a bottle of vodka he lazily wandered over to a north-facing window to watch the incoming storm. 

The professor squinted his eyes in disbelief as he stared out the window at a lovely young woman wearing a sundress in the snow. Her auburn hair whipped around her violently in the wind. She shuffled forward hopelessly, rubbing her bare arms in a futile attempt to warm herself, a look of hopeless terror on her face. Mayakovsky thought perhaps he should leave her there. This unexpected visitor could be some kind of trap... or test. Oh, how magicians love their tests. Maybe it was his crushing boredom and loneliness, or perhaps it was the sad, desperate look in the young woman’s eyes. But after watching her for a moment, shambling helplessly about in the arctic storm; he dropped the protective wards that concealed the school, opened a door, and quickly pulled her inside.

June was stunned and baffled when a large building appeared out of nowhere in front of her. More surprised still when a door flung open and a man pulled her inside. She looked around in confusion at what appeared to be a large wooden lodge. The deadly landscape she escaped was visible through a nearby window. She spun in a small circle, quietly taking in her surroundings. At last her eyes fell on her rescuer, a man dressed in layers of heavy grey knits and woolen cap, a strange pendant hung around his neck. He watched her with cautious curiosity. The two locked eyes briefly before the dramatic temperature variations and utter shock overtook her, and she fainted to the floor. 

The professor let out a contemptuous “Hmph.” as he peered down at the woman on the floor. The warm reddish tint of her hair stood out amongst the silver and blue shadows that filled the room. Her pale skin was burned a hot pink from the biting arctic temperatures, her feet and fingers a frostbitten gray and blue. He watched her chest slowly rise and fall, she was still alive. He pulled a small piece of colored glass from his pocket and inspected her through it.

“Not a pinch of magic in you...So why are you here?” he pondered aloud. “Well, let’s patch you up, eh?”

He grunted in discomfort as he lifted her from the floor and carried her to a nearby sofa by the fire. Normally he detested anyone who did not have at least some magical proclivity, but after weeks in isolation, he was happy to have any company at all. And at least she was nice to look at. 

There was no way to tell how long she was out, but when June finally opened her eyes again she found herself seated on a sofa facing a fireplace, the warm flames within a welcome sight. A bottle of clear liquid sat on a nearby coffee table. Portraits in ornate frames and some kind of large crest decorated the walls. Thankfully, someone had put a gray thermal shirt on over her sundress and covered her legs with a large quilt. Her fingers were bound in heavy gauze, a sticky balm seeped between the bandages. She discovered her feet were enclosed in ornate wooden boxes, the strange man she’d seen before waved his hands over them, muttering to himself.

“This is easily the worst trip I’ve ever had.” she moaned.

Mayakovsky looked up from his work.

“Trip?” He spoke with a heavy Russian accent. 

He stared at her quizzically for a second, then a look for understanding fell over his face. He moved in closer and put a hand beneath her chin, bringing her gaze to meet his, and examined her eyes intently. 

“Now, I understand.” he chuckled softly. “Fucking Pixies.”

“Pixies?” 

He ignored her inquiry and silently returned to her feet, moving his fingers above the boxes in odd yet deliberate motions. He muttered softly in a dialect she could not recognize as he focused intently on the task at hand. 

“What are you doing?” 

Mayakovsky let out an irritated sigh, “A healing spell. I’m trying to reattach your toes to your feet.”

“Spell? Reattach?!” 

He stopped his incantation and looked up at her with annoyance.

“Yes, reattach.” he barked gruffly. “Your feet were badly damaged by the cold. And I am too drunk to work with distractions. So, unless you want your little piggies to go wee wee wee all the way to the garbage can, I suggest be quiet so I can focus.” 

June fell silently and watched the professor work, his face twisted in concentration and determination. Before long a strange golden glow began to emanate from the wooden vessels that enclosed her feet. Mayakovsky looked up at her with smug satisfaction. 

“Now, I will explain.” he took a deep breath and continued “Magic is real. This is a school for Magicians. I am Master Magician and professor. You have the magic inclination of potatoes, but let me guess...magic mushrooms?” 

He smiled knowingly.

She reached into her bag with a heavily bandaged hand and clumsily pulled out what was left of the shrooms, eyeing them suspiciously. 

“I bought these at the Unity festival…So, I am tripping?” she suggested hopefully.

He shook his head. “No. You see, most of the time you buy magic mushroom, you get Psilocybe cubensis. Feels nice, see some pretty colors, and it’s a pretty good time… Occasionally, however, you come across some pointy-eared prick. Pixies love to fuck with humans, and they sell you mushrooms with actual magic….like these.”

He snatched the bag of mushrooms from her and inspected them thoughtfully.

“Pretty potent. Looks like they’re one-offs… What on earth did you wish for?” he asked curiously.

“I...Umm Something about wanting to get away from the heat and mosquitoes?” she furrowed her brow.

“Well, be careful what you wish for!” Mayakovsky laughed and held his arms open wide. “Welcome to the South Pole!”

June’s mind spun with the knowledge that had been bestowed upon her. She stared at her companion in disbelief. He looked back at her expectantly.

“Any questions?”

She opened her mouth to speak but found herself at a loss for words. If what he said was true her world would never be the same. If this was all in fact a very bad trip, she could only hope it would end soon. The professor casually dragged the coffee table closer and gently lifted her boxed feet to rest on it.

“You need to keep your feet still for a couple of hours.” he instructed

Before she could respond a sharp burning tingle shot through her hands. Her feet began to ache and burn like she was stepping on hot coals. 

“Holy shit! It burns! What did you do to me?”

“It’s fine,” Mayakovsky replied calmly, “Just your nerves regrowing...That’s a good thing.”

Tears filled June’s eyes, “I didn’t think magic was supposed to hurt so much!”

He shook his head, “Healing hurts, magic or not. This will not take all your pain, but it should help.”

He handed her a glass half full of clear liquid.

“What is this? A magic potion?”

He shrugged in response. “It is a potent elixir…”

She took an eager gulp from the glass. As soon as she swallowed she began to cough and gag. Her eyes teared up and her throat burned, and as the liquid reached her stomach she felt the powerful urge to vomit it back up.

“About 150 proof.” he finished.

June wiped her watering eyes with a gauzy hand and stared at the flickering flames.

“ I’m still not certain this isn’t a hallucination.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged, “In three days' time you’ll have no memory of this place.”

She turned to him, “Three days? Why three days?”

He sat down beside her and took a long swig from the bottle, “There is a huge electro-magnetic storm over the pole right now. Impossible to send or receive communications, makes portals highly unstable, and anyone who tries to teleport in or out could be ripped to shreds. It’s a miracle you got through in one piece. After it passes in about three days I can contact Brakebills, explain to that cunt Fog how you got here, create a portal back, and they will wipe your memory and send you home. You will be healed by then, and if you’re lucky they’ll whip up some pleasant memories of this hippie festival for you.”

June took a careful sip from her glass and turned to watch the fire. Teleportation, portals, magic Russians, it all seemed so impossible. Yet, she felt deep inside that it somehow was the truth. After a moment in silence, she turned to him.

“I didn’t get your name,” she said softly.

He extended a hand to her, “Professor Mayakovsky. But since you are not a student, you may call me Mischa... if you like.”

She carefully shook his hand, “I’m June, June Parker.”

“Lovely to meet you Miss Parker,” he cordially replied, “And you’re welcome, by the way… For saving your life, and making sure you can walk and wipe your ass again soon. No big deal.”

June felt her face grow flush. “Thank you, of course, Mischa... I am grateful, just a little overwhelmed.”

“Understandable.”

The two sat in silence, watching the fire and sipping strong vodka. The wintry tempest raged just outside the window, but sounded muted and far away. With the absence of clocks and the storm blocking any sun, it was impossible to tell time. It could have been several minutes or closer to an hour before either spoke again. Mayakovsky finally broke the silence.

“I must say you’re very brave.” he offered.

“Brave?” June was confused.

“You are alone and helpless with a stranger at the South Pole, with not a scrap on magic in you. And you sit here sipping my vodka, calm and curious...not a hint of fear.” he mused. “Very brave.”

She shrugged in response, “Maybe it’s the booze, maybe it’s the overwhelming insanity of it all...but I do feel calm. It’s strangely peaceful here, and I suppose I find an odd serenity having no control.”

“Explain.” 

“Well,” she continued “I mean...my hands and feet are practically useless, and there are hundreds of miles of frozen tundra between us and anybody else. I am literally powerless against your apparent magical abilities...and as you said, I won’t remember any of this in a few days. So, whatever happens between now and then...It’s out of my hands. No control means no responsibility. And for someone who’s a hyper responsible control freak...it’s kind of a relief. I guess that’s why I bought those mushrooms in the first place, to give up some control.”

She took a thoughtful sip from her glass. ”And by the way, being brave isn’t about not being afraid...it’s about being afraid, and finding a way through it.”

Mayakovsky raised a curious eyebrow and nodded softly in response. There was another long stretch of silence before either of them spoke again.

“Let me check your hands.” he ordered.

She set down her glass and held her hands up to him obediently, she hadn’t noticed the pain had left them. The professor gently unwound the wrapping around her fingers. Her digits were all perfectly intact, her skin a milky pink that seemed to glow.

“Perfect.” he proclaimed with a hint of a smile as he moved to undo the other. “Your feet will take much longer. I remind you: Do not move them.”

June flexed her fingers gently, a warm sensation traveled from her fingertips up her arms and into her chest. She tentatively ran a digit across the soft fabric of the quilt in her lap. It felt incredible, a sensuous tingle rippled through her.

“They will be a little sensitive at first,” Mayakovsky explained, “All new skin, no callous, and fresh nerves.”

She gently caressed her cheek, feeling her own skin as never before. She let her hands wander down her neck and trail across the rough fabric on her arm in a bevy of tactile delight. She gave the professor an appreciative smile and took notice of the thick stubble on his face. Almost involuntarily her hand shot out and rubbed against the rough hair on his jaw and down his neck. She wondered how that stubble would feel on the tender skin of her inner thighs. Their eyes locked for a moment. Startled and embarrassed by her impulsive behavior she jerked her hand away and averted her gaze.

“Sorry.” she gasped.

Something inside him stirred awake from her sudden caress. He felt the strong urge to bring his mouth to delicate skin, to taste her, to feel her. He let down the protective barrier that encompassed his mind, and her thoughts flowed into him in a symphony of want and confusion. 

“Not a problem.” his voice was deep and breathy, “You know it’s been a long time since I’ve been around anyone who wasn’t a Magician. So strange... You that have no wards to guard your thoughts…”

“Are you saying you can read my thoughts?”

“No. No.” He helped himself to another swallow of vodka. “ I’m saying I don’t need to. Your thoughts are being shouted at me, like cheerleader at a pep-rally.”

June flushed red at the notion. Did he really know what she was thinking? Did he know that she’d just imagined his head between her thighs? Had he heard her pondering the potential x-rated uses for magic? Was he listening now? It was as if knowing the secrets of her mind were on display brought every dirty thought bubbling to the surface. Was he big? Was he cut? Was he gay? Did he want to fuck her? With all that vodka could he even get it up?

She felt mortified and panicked at the inability to control her own perverse, rambling thoughts. She wanted to run hide from her humiliation, but her feet were convalescing in magical boxes. She looked at him, shamefaced, her mouth agape and lost for words.

“Well, I’m not gay... And I’ve never had any problems from the vodka.”

He raised an eyebrow at her suggestively as his lips curled into a grin. June stammered and looked at her hands. 

“You need to clean up your thoughts,” she thought to herself. (but not just to herself) “It’s like when someone says don’t think about a purple elephant and suddenly all you can think of is a purple elephant. Except instead of a purple elephant you can stop thinking fucking this man you just met. This man who’s likely old enough to be your father. Some strange, drunk, magic professor at the South Pole who can read your thoughts. Who is reading your thoughts. Jesus Christ this is insane.”

“I hate to interrupt,” he chuckled, “You are very entertaining, but I think this might help.”

He took her face in his hands and leaned in and kissed her deeply. The vodka on his breath was thick as his accent and his dense stubble rubbed roughly against her skin. He pulled back and looked intensely into her eyes.

“You want to give up control? I can take it.” 

She found herself transfixed by his icy blue stare. She wanted to lose herself, throw caution to the wind, and give herself over to his every vulgar desire. “If what he says is true, it will be like it never happened,” she thought.

She swallowed hard, “Ok.” 

He kissed her again and this time she kissed back. Her hands ran across the coarse hair on his cheeks, and down his neck to his chest. He reached beneath the thermal shirt he’d dressed her in and eagerly groped her supple breast. His lips left hers and traveled down her neck to her collar bone. She moaned as his hands moved under the blanket and across her thighs. She moved slightly to part her legs for him... there was a loud clunk as the box around her foot collided with the bottle of vodka set to rest on the table, knocking it over.

Mayakovsky froze and looked at her with a fiery intensity. Suddenly, grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back painfully as he brought his face in close to hers.

“I told you,” he growled. “Don’t. Move. Your fucking feet.”

She swallowed hard and stared back at him, wide-eyed and shaken. “I’m sorry. I won’t.” 

“Perhaps you should call me professor after all...It seems you have a lot to learn.” He turned and righted the toppled liquor bottle.

“Yes, Professor.” she panted.

He turned back to her smiling lecherously, “Very good… First lesson.”

He leaned in close and put his mouth by her ear, she could feel his hot breath on her neck. His hand slowly reached beneath the quilt, and ran up her thigh and across her stomach. His fingers lingered at the edge of her panties, she trembled with anticipation.

“Do as you're told.” 

A warm deep vibration emanated from his hand, it radiated down her luscious mound and reverberated deep into her. Waves of pleasure crashed over her in a sensation that can only be described as magical. His fingers crept beneath her underwear and he kissed her neck as he began to gently massage her clitoris.

His hand moved expertly between her legs and a steady deliberate motion. Before long she found herself overwhelmed with sensation. Her heart pounded and she panted heavily. His skillful fingers swirled around her most sensitive parts as she pushed up eagerly against his hand. His lips met hers once again and she felt his tongue slip inside her mouth while simultaneously a finger slipped inside her pussy. She could feel her wetness reach her thighs as he added another finger, then a third. His fingers pulsed warmly inside her, his tongue probed her mouth, and his thumb deftly circled her clit. She gripped the arm of the sofa as she moaned deeply.

There was a loud cracking thud as one of her feet slipped from the table and crashed against the floor. Mayakovsky promptly stopped and pulled away. Sharp hot pain shot through her foot and she cried out in agony.

“It hurts doesn’t it?” he snapped. “Good.” 

He stood and snatched the vodka from the table, he took a deep drink before moving to stand near her feet. 

“I think disobedience is best met with swift consequences... You’re lucky the box did it for you this time. I would not be so brief.” 

The professor gently lifted her fallen limb back to resting on the table, reseated the bottle on the table, and looked at her meaningfully. She stared up at him with wide eyed uncertainty. 

“We can stop if you like.” he offered. “Perhaps you’re too overwhelmed? Strange day and all.”

She blinked up at him and shook her head. He gave her a satisfied smirk. 

“If you change your mind. Say ‘Indigo’ or think it if your mouth is... occupied. All will stop, I assure you.”

“Yes, Professor.” 

He chuckled softly. “Very brave indeed... Well then, I tell you for the last time. Keep your feet STILL.”

In one swift motion, he pulled the quilt from her lap and cast it aside. Even sitting near the warm fire the arctic air chilled her suddenly exposed skin. Mayakovsky watched her intently as he slowly circled the sofa like a predator with its prey.

“I think perhaps you require a bit more supervision… Until your behavior improves.”

June shivered with cold and excitement. What could that mean? He reached down and pulled up the bottom of her dress. Then, slowly slid her panties down to her knees. He took in the sight of her exposed nethers like an art connoisseur. She looked up at him with bated breath, vulnerable and yearning. 

He stood near the arm of the couch and moved his hands above her sex in a series of intricate motions, not unlike what she’d seen before. 

“Another spell?” 

“Something I came up with for a friend in long-distance relationship,” he said as he undid his pants.

He let his trousers fall to his ankles, exposing his rigid cock. He quietly recited an incantation and made a few quick gestures over himself. Then, clapped his hands together once sharply. She shuddered as his gaze slowly crawled over her. What kind of magic had he cast?

Mayakovsky locked eyes with her and slowly slid his hand down his shaft. June’s eyes widened; as she watched him deliberately push himself into his hand she could feel the immistakable sensation of a hard phallus entering her. 

“Not as good as the real thing”, He murmured, “But perhaps once you’ve proven you can behave yourself…”

She gasped sharply as he slid his hand up and down his cock, feeling him thrusting into her wet pussy without even touching her. She wanted to reach out and feel him but feared she might break the spell and incur his wrath. Instead, she gripped the hem of her dress and watched him attentively, as she focused every ounce of restraint on keeping her feet in place.

He closed his eyes and let out a breathy moan as he increased his speed. She bit down on her lower lip, her thighs twitched and her heart raced.

“Don’t move your feet. Don’t move your feet.” she repeated to herself like a meditative mantra.

She whimpered as she neared orgasm, finding it painfully difficult to keep still. 

“Open your mouth.” 

She did so without hesitation. He quickly pushed the head of his cock past her lips and unburdened his load onto her tongue. She swallowed his spunk blithely, licking a few stray drops from his member. He looked down to her feet, still frozen in position.

“Good girl.” 

He let out a satisfied sigh and hitched up his pants before unceremoniously walking away.

“You hungry?” he called over his shoulder.

“Uh...Yeah? Yes, Professor.” 

June sat in silence, trying to process everything that had just occurred. Her feet ached slightly, her thighs were sticky moist, and her skin flushed. She tried to pull her underwear back into place, only to realize she would need to move her feet to do so, and she was certain that would not be permissible. Instead, she pulled her dress back down to cover herself and waited patiently for her companion to rejoin her. 

Before long Mayakovsky returned with two steaming bowls in hand. He sat close beside her and handed her a bowl of hot noodle soup. She carefully sipped the hot broth, enjoying the warmth against the chill in the air.

“You’d like the blanket back, da?” 

She nodded. “Please.”

He set down his meal and retrieved the quilt, tenderly covering her with it. They sat in strangely comfortable silence, watching the fire and enjoying their soup.

“That log has been burning this whole time, but hasn’t gotten any smaller,” she observed.

“Enchanted. Very useful in this freezing hellhole.”

“If you don’t like it here, why do you stay?” 

He sat down his empty bowl and picked up the waning bottle. A sad angry look crept over his face. She didn’t need to read his mind to know that leaving was not an option.

“Oh...I see.” she said apologetically. 

She placed a hand gently on his thigh. He covered her hand in his and took a deep drink from the bottle, his eyes never leaving the flames. The room was silent and still, but the storm outside howelled and raged. She laid her head softly on his shoulder. 

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Of course.”

She looked at him quizzically.

“It’s good you don’t move your feet, but I can’t have you pissing all over the furniture.”

She cringed slightly, having forgotten her every thought was announced to him. Making him well aware of her increasing need to use the facilities. He rose to his feet and waved his hands over her body, a soft golden glow surrounded her.

“What is this?” 

“Lightener,” he explained as he scooped her up effortlessly and carried her to the restroom. “My back is not what it used to be.”


	2. Lesson 2

June sat and waited for the professor to return. It seemed like forever since he’d left her to relieve herself. Her back grew stiff and her legs ached from sitting so long on the hard ceramic seat. She took in the details of the large stark lavatory. A small pedestal sink stood near the toilet, with a big oval mirror mounted above it. A wide clawfoot tub at the far end of the room with a small wooden stool beside it. Little flower details decorated the walls and a soft hum seemed to emanate all around. At long last, her consort reappeared looking refreshed, a mischievous, almost giddy twinkle in his eye.

“You finished?”

She nodded and he lifted her up and carefully carried her down the hall. Immediately she realized he was not taking her back to the fireside.

“Where are we going?” she inquired.

“Somewhere more comfortable.”

They continued down a seemingly endless hallway, small identically spartan rooms lined either side. Finally, they reached a large door at the end of the hall. 

“Otkrytyy” he grunted, and the door swung wide open.

The room was large, yet cozy. A large oak framed bed sat centered on the far wall. A chest of drawers, a small writing desk, and a wing-back chair also furnished the room. The walls were bare dark wood and an unmistakably male musk lingered in the air. The small trash can by the desk overflowed with empty liquor bottles. He gently placed her seated on the edge of the bed.

“My room.” he offered, “You can sleep here if you like…”

There was something almost timid about the way he phrased it, perhaps too proud to admit he did not care to sleep alone. Any meekness she saw, however, was very short-lived.

“But no sleep just yet… First, we continue your lessons. Stick out your tongue.”

June blinked up at him befuddled.

“Stick. OUT. Your. Tongue.” He repeated emphatically. 

She poked the tip of her tongue out from between her lips.

“Further.” 

She reluctantly slid her tongue out as far as possible. He crouched down to her eye level, placed a hand firmly on her throat, then wrapped his lips around her protruding tongue and sucked it forcefully into his mouth. June was aghast at the strange sensation of this unfamiliar act. He slowly closed his teeth down on the tender wet muscle. She flinched in pain, but could not pull away. At long last, he released her and regarded her with a look of cynical amusement. 

“This is mine,” he stated, using a finger to push her tongue back into her stunned mouth. “So, next lesson: Don’t talk back. You understand? You do as you're told, and you do it without question. Without comment. Without even a word, expect perhaps- Yes, Professor… Da?”

June’s heart pounded in her chest, her blood ran hot to her ears, cheeks, and groin. She bit her lip and nodded.

“Very good. Now, arms up.”

There wasn’t a second of hesitation before her arms shot up above her... Mayakovsky grabbed the bottom hem of her dress and effortlessly pulled it up over her head. He let it fall from his hand to the floor as he looked her over appreciatively. 

He crouched down once more and reached behind her. His cheek brushed roughly against her’s, and his warm breath drifted down her neck as he unhooked her bra. Once the garment was removed, he rose back to his feet and beheld her with a gratified expression.

“Arms forward. Wrists together,” he commanded.

June nervously complied. He produced a small silver chain from his pocket and wound it once around her wrists and into a loose knot. Inexplicably she felt her wrists seemingly locked together. She tried to part them but found it impossible.

“More magic?” she asked. 

“Talking back already?”

She looked down and shook her head.

“Good. Now, lay back.”

She tried to lower herself gently, struggled with her hands bound and feet firmly set in place. Instead, she clumsily flopped onto her back with a loud, “Oof.”

The professor chuckled softly, grabbed the chain, and yanked her up the bed as if she were weightless. He held her arms up over her head and pressed down onto her wrists.

“Stay.”

June felt a strange sensation in her hands and arms and realized she was completely unable to move them. She felt a tug at her hip and heard the distinct sound of ripping fabric. She knew without looking it was the sound of her panties being torn off. She lifted her head to see Mayakovsky carefully sliding her enclosed feet apart. He spread her legs wide and ran his hands up from her ankles to her knees. 

“Don’t move until I tell you.”

She had never felt more exposed. Arms bound above her, spread eagle and naked. Her heart pounded and she breathed heavily, yet her mind was peaceful, focused, and ready.

June let out an ecstatic whimper as she felt the coarse hair of the professor’s face on the tender flesh of her inner thigh. His hands slid across her hips and she could feel his hot breath on the outer lips of her quickly wettening pussy. He ran his tongue slowly up the outer edge of her labia before lapping nimbly at her clit. She inhaled deeply as he gently sucked her sensitive nub and pushed apart her pussy lips with his fingers. Her toes began to curl inside their timber cages. All at once she remembered his command. She kept herself as motionless as she could, but her thighs trembled as he continued to pleasure her.

The professor’s skillful tongue was relentless. The dense scruff on his muzzle grew slick with her juices. She pulled slightly against the enchanted chain that bound her hands, but it held fast. His speed increased as he slid two fingers inside her, gently curling them in a beckoning motion. Her hips lifted up slightly, pressing against his eager mouth, and her thighs twitched painfully. She focused all her determination on holding her feet where he’d set them. A short gasping scream escaped her as she climaxed. 

June panted heavily, blissful and flushed. Once again she was able to follow his seemingly impossible order. Mayakovsky looked down briefly to confirm she had not allowed her feet to move. Then, to her delight and distress, he resumed stimulating her, licking and stroking her wet, tender womanhood. 

She found herself gasping, her sex was sensitive from the recent excitement. He gave her no reprieve, sucking and licking her tender clit, sliding his fingers in and out slowly. One hand gripped her thigh as she moaned and writhed, wanting simultaneously to pull away and push back. Her pleasure mounted quickly and she found herself struggling once again to keep her feet still as she rapidly approached a second orgasm. She whimpered at the unabated persistence of his mouth. 

“Oh no,” she whined. “Please. I can’t…”

Mayakovsky lifted his head, then moved on his hands and knees up the bed to look her in the eye. 

“You remember the word?” 

She bit her lip and nodded.

“Two options then,” he explained, “One: say the word, or two: keep your feet still.”

He watched her face carefully. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Ok. I’ll be still,” she promised

He smirked in response and went back to his carnal task. She cried out sharply as he grazed his teeth across her painfully sensitive clit. A deep pulsating vibration ran once again through his fingers as he pushed them artfully and steadily into her. She held her breath in an attempt to stead herself, but that only made the sensation more intense. The muscles in her legs ached and spasmed as she used every fiber of her resolve to hold them in place. 

The professor increased his pace and pressure. June found herself distressingly close to climax again. She knew if she came again there was no way she would be able to keep her feet in position. Unfortunately, Mayakovsky's ceaseless stimulation left her with no other choice.

She let out a moaning wail as she came. Her back arched and her thighs snapped shut around his head. There was a loud echoing “CLACK” as the two wooden boxes collided.

For a moment she lay there panting, awash in pleasure and only vaguely aware of her fault. He rose from the bed, wiping his mouth with his hand. Somehow he looked simultaneously thrilled and displeased.

He knocked sharply on one of the wooden boxes on her feet. “No pain?”

She shook her head.

“You heal quickly,” he said as he released the clasp on the box and removed it. 

Her foot was flawlessly healed. Like on her fingers, her skin seemed to glow. The cool air on her fresh skin was intense and slightly painful.

“You know what I do at this school?” he spoke barely above a whisper as he unboxed her other foot. “I teach idiots to do the impossible. Mind control. Teleportation, Pyromancy… Magic.”

He slowly dragged a finger across the bottom of her tender foot. The sensation was overwhelming, she jerked away reflexively. 

“I didn’t think it would be so hard to teach you not to move your fucking feet!” He growled. “Perhaps you have not been properly incentivized.”

He grabbed the chain around her wrists and lifted it up slightly, suddenly she was able to lift her arms with ease, but her wrists remained magically bound together.

“On your knees and elbows,” he ordered.

June found herself trembling, but compliant. He grabbed her by the hips and lifted, her back arched painfully and her ass stuck up in the air. She stared at her bound wrists, listening to him breathing heavily with arousal.

“Now...Don’t. Move. Your feet.” 

Suddenly, something hard and cold tapped against the overly sensitive arch of one foot. Waves of sensation shot up her leg and she involuntarily jerked her foot away. A second later a hand came crashing down onto her buttocks. A loud “smack” reverberated throughout the room. 

“Again.” 

A soft light tickle ran across the bottom of her other foot. Pins and needles crawled up her leg. Her foot twitched and jerked away from the sensation. Again his hand collided with the tender flesh on her backside. The ring on his finger left a hot stinging welt.

“Again.”

Over and over he torturously stimulated the soles of her hyper-sensitive feet. Each time delivering a savage slap to her ass when she failed to comply with his command. She tried to muster the strength to control her limbs, but each time was unable. 

“Still uncooperative?”

He reached down and pulled the belt from his pants, smacking it hard against his hand with a loud crack.

“Maybe this will help you follow instructions.”

He leaned in close and blew gently on the bottom of her feet. An overwhelming crawling sensation spread over her feet like thousands of ants were covering them. She squirmed but held steady. 

“Good.”

Next, he took a coin from his pocket and held it tightly in his hand. After a moment he held it flat against her left arch. It felt like a lump of hot coal was burning her delicate flesh. She screamed and pulled away. 

“Tsk Tsk”

The belt came down on her with an excruciating crack. Pain shot through the muscles in her rear into her back and hips. Her skin burned beneath the leather. He took the coin in his hand again, before touching it to her right foot. This time it felt like an icy bolt, shooting up her leg. She jerked her foot away.

“Maybe you like this belt.” He said as he brought it down again on her backside. “This is why you disobey me.”

He delivered another painful blow.

“Hmmm? Perhaps I should find something different to motivate you?”

Another lash came down on her bare ass.

“What do you say?” he asked mockingly “Should I go find a nice stick to beat you with, huh?”

She whimpered and shook her head.

“So you do want the belt?”

Again she shook her head.

“Then don’t move your feet.”

Blows rained down across her ass and thighs. Before long her entire rear was red and bruised, covered in aching welts. She sobbed softly into the bed.

“Enough for now,” he said when at long last he seemed to tire of punishing her. 

He grabbed her ankles and pulled her legs straight out so she lay flat on her stomach. He left the room, returning a moment later. June gasped as he laid a cold wet towel on her throbbing backside. He ran a tentative hand up her back and stroked her hair. 

“You tried. I know this… You failed, but not without great effort.” there was a hint of compassion in his voice. He sighed “And I am not a lenient tutor. I know this too.” 

He took a fistful of her hair and lifted her head to look at him. His eyes scanned her tear-stained face. 

“You want to please me, yes?”

“Yes, Professor.” she softly replied.

He tugged her tied wrists off the bed. “Up on your knees then.”

She slowly, sorely rose to her knees. Her makeup had smeared around her eyes and started to run down her cheeks. He wiped away the watery trails from her face and gazed deep into her eyes. He placed his hand on the back of her head and pulled her in for a deep kiss. Her tethered hands pressed against the outside of his pants. She could feel his hard cock within, straining against the fabric.

“Now, stand,” he ordered.

June shifted to a sitting position. Her weight on her swollen buttocks was agonizing. She moved to stand, but the second her bare feet touched the cold floor, it felt as if electricity shot up her legs in spikes of stinging pain. She cried out and fell back on the bed, screaming again as she landed on her throbbing ass.

Mayakovsky stood in front of her, watching her like a bug under glass.

“Fresh nerves and new skin, much like your hands. It will be difficult to tolerate your weight at first. You must overcome this if you plan on walking again. So, stand.”

She summoned every bit of strength she had left in her and lowered her feet to the floor. It felt as if she were standing on a live wire and a block of ice all at once. As she stood waves of lightning seemed to shoot from the floor up her legs. She squealed, whimpered, and clenched her teeth. Her body shook from the overwhelming sensation until finally, as commanded, she stood before the professor.

“Very good.” he praised.

He unwound the binding from her wrists, held it reflectively for a moment, then wrapped it gently around her neck. 

“Only I can remove this.” he informed her, “Say the word and it’s gone. But while you wear it, know it means you are mine. I own you. Like a little pet kitten. You understand?”

She nodded, still trembling from the agony in her feet. 

“Aloud Kitten.” He chided.

“Yes, Professor.” she whimpered.

“Good. You may sit.”

She immediately fell back on the bed, the discomfort from landing on her welted rear was a welcome relief to the torture of standing on her overly sensitive feet. She panted heavily, not realizing she had been holding her breath. 

“You may move freely now,” he informed her.

She rolled onto her side, a happy moan escaped her as she finally felt relief from her pain. She watched as he stood over her and casually undressed. He had more muscle than his bulky clothing had suggested. Black and gray curls of hair spread across his toned chest to his soft belly. His arms flexed as he undid his pants, displaying the strength in his biceps. When he was completely stripped he climbed onto the bed with her.

The professor laid down beside her and ran his hand across the chain on her neck. He let his hand travel down her back to her battered behind. She winced as his fingers ran across a stinging welt. He reached between her legs and stroked her hot wet pussy as he brought his mouth in close to her ear.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he informed her. 

She trembled beneath his hand. “Yes, Professor.” 

Without another word, he rolled her onto her back, climbed on top of her, and pushed her legs apart. She felt the pressure of his manhood pushing up against the outside of her aching twat. He slid a hand up her stomach and squeezed her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers. She gasped as he pushed himself inside her. 

The feeling of him thrusting into her was worlds away from the experience on the sofa, and infinitely better. His body pressed against hers, his hands fondled her roughly, he grunted softly as he rhythmically slid in and out of her slick pussy. 

June panted and moaned, her bruised bottom stung, but the exquisite pleasure that filled her with each aggressive stroke made it fade into the background. She ran her hands up his back and over his head. He leaned on his elbows and pressed his lips hard against hers.

Faster and harder he gave her all he could. She cried out in ecstasy and held tight to his arms to brace herself against the ceaseless rhythm. 

Her pleasure was mounting, he bit down on her neck. She rocked her hips to match his rhythm.

“Oh, god yes.” she moaned. 

He pushed into her deep and hard as she came, clenching down around his cock. The sudden tightening around his dick brought him to orgasm simultaneously. He let out a low, guttural growl as he released inside her.

The two disengaged and lay beside each other, panting and exhausted. She rolled over and curled up beside him, running a hand through the hair on his chest. He gently stroked her hair in return. 

“Now, be a good Kitten,” he instructed. “Go clean yourself up. You’ll spoil my sheets.”

June obediently made to go to the restroom, forgetting her tender soles. The cold floor was a quick reminder, and as soon as she stood she collapsed in pain. He propped himself up on his elbow and watched her curiously.

“I will not carry you this time,” he informed her. “Walk, crawl, or sleep on the floor. But do not get back in this bed a sloppy mess.”

She tried to pull herself to her feet, but the muscles in her legs ached and her feet stung miserably. So, she slowly crawled across the cold hard floor to the bathroom. The hallway seemed to stretch out for miles. Her knees and palms ached against the hardwood. Steadily, inch by inch, she continued her journey.

The pain in her body was no match for her resolve. When finally she pulled herself, whimpering onto the toilet she felt giddy with victory. She had done it, exhausted and aching she had made it to her destination. The bottoms of her feet touched the cold bathroom tile and icy spikes shot up her legs. 

She didn’t remember passing out, but the next thing she knew Mayakovsky was snapping his fingers in front of her face, bringing her back into consciousness.

“Here.” he said, offering her a glass of clear liquid. 

“No more vodka, please.” she moaned.

“It’s water. Come, drink.”

She took the glass and eagerly drank it down.

“I think you’ve had enough for one day, little Kitten.” he said pulling a large sweatshirt over her head.

He carefully covered her feet in thick wool socks. Then, scooped her up and carried her back down the hall. 

“We will continue your lessons in the morning.”

He laid her down on the bed and covered her with a heavy blanket. The last thing she heard before she drifted away was him sounding very far away, softly singing to himself in Russian.


End file.
